The Muse of Tragedy
by Starry Eyed Dreamer
Summary: In which 17 yr old Ginny Weasley finds a new painting in the halls of Hogwarts and gains the confidence to follow her dreams and take the consequences without complaint. Just a lil piece of fluff that I came up with.


The Muse of Tragedy

Starry Eyed Dreamer

Ginny stood before the new painting with an expression of interest. Something compelled her to it… Something that she couldn't quite place. As her father had said before about driving magical items, "Don't trust anything unless you know where it keeps its brain," she hadn't expected it to apply anytime soon. After all, she was only eleven, and she'd like to think that at her present age of seventeen, she'd grown a little since then.

Still… the painting… was fascinating to say the least. The painting was odd in a way that it was only partially mobile. The figures could not move exactly, but their hair and clothes and the horses' manes did. It depicted a whirlpool at the center with the nine muses riding, or being dragged, to the whirlpool of the universe. But the painting itself didn't root Ginny the way that the Muse did. The Muse, with its scarlet tresses and sapphire eyes holding determination, that reminded herself so much of — of herself it was appalling. 

The chariot said "MELPOMENE" in its gilded letters and Ginny knew just then who it was. Melpomene was the eternal muse of Tragedy…

An image of her mother constructed itself in Ginny's brain. Her mother was cooking and gave her some advice about tragedy…words of wisdom from the Muse herself before she and her sisters disappeared… what was it again? _There are two great tragedies in life, _Ginny recited_, One is not getting your heart's desire; the other is – the other is…_ what? Whatever it was Ginny was quite sure that she hadn't understood it at the time.

A small smile played around Ginny's lips. Melpomene had driven her to her fate, even if it was going to be a tragedy. Ginny wanted her heart's desire, and at the present moment, that was Harry.

As if by some strange ironical twist, one person suddenly crashed into Ginny, driving her to the floor. 

"I'm such a daft idiot, sorry, really, can I help you?" Harry stated from behind a large stack of books.

"It's okay Harry," Ginny smiled, "I understand. Exams are coming up…"

"And these are the final ones in my Hogwarts days…I know…"

Now, up close, she could see the fine bags forming under his bloodshot eyes. "You're overworked… you need a break."

For once in that long tedious week, Harry grinned, and he positively _glowed _for all the difference it made in his appearance. "What do you have in mind?"

With the invisibility cloak above them, the duo took a little trip to Hogsmeade.

They came back in the wee hours of the morning with the first shafts of sunlight peeking above the horizon. Both flushed and happy, they stood before the entrance to the girls' dormitory together. 

"Good Night, Ginny," Harry whispered.

"Good Morning, Harry," Ginny answered coyly. She turned away and heard the resounding echo of his footsteps along the stairs. 

Thoughts crossed her mind in a matter of seconds. _What are you still doing here? You just let Harry walk away from you and all you can say is 'Good Morning?' And you dare to say that you're crushing on him? Give me a break! Better yet, I'll take my break and you can go –_

A grin formed upon Ginny's lips. _"_Harry!" she said a bit louder, "Harry!"

"Yes?"

And before either of them knew what they were doing, they were snogging in the common room at five thirty in the morning, oblivious to the voice of Professor McGonagall, and later to the tormenting voices of their fellow Gryffindors once they heard McGonagall. They quickly regained their senses and split, Ginny however reluctantly.

Ginny sighed a sad little sigh. Harry won't even speak to her after the incident and the Gryffindors still nettle her to no end. During lunchtime once again she had found her feet walking toward the painting, and she saw that it had changed. Melpomene no longer had eyes filled with determination, but a mixture of pain and pleasure watching the figure reaching for her chariot. And the figure had a definite resemblance to Harry… There was a solemn knowing smile upon Ginny's lips and her Mother's words again echoed in her mind, though now she understood. _There are two great tragedies in life. One is not getting your heart's desire; the other is getting it. _

How right Melpomene was…


End file.
